


Kissing With Confidence

by hgdoghouse



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2011-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 11:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hgdoghouse/pseuds/hgdoghouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie and Doyle reunite after two weeks working apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kissing With Confidence

The demands of their latest assignment kept them apart for over two weeks - Doyle in London, Bodie in Birmingham - until they re-united for the finale of the operation. It went with text book precision. Aware that he and Doyle were due for a few days' leave once the reports were completed, Bodie was all efficient affability. He even completed his report before Doyle, who was usually the more conscientious member of the team where paperwork was concerned.

"This is you sitting opposite me, isn't it?" asked Doyle, gazing at him with disbelief.

"Get this tea inside you and that report finished," commanded Bodie, placing a mug at Doyle's side. "Cowley said we're off until Sunday morning, _if_ we get our reports on his desk by mid-day."

"Four days' leave? He's cracking up," said Doyle with a conviction unmarred by a jaw-cracking yawn.

"Come on, mate. You won't get it done like this."

Doyle peered at him through hair which had needed cutting two months ago. "You're a bit keen. Turning into a clock-watcher, are you?"

"Things to do, mate."

"Like what, for instance?"

Taking advantage of the fact they were alone in the office, Bodie indulged himself, enjoying the luxury of a lengthy, if blatant, appraisal of his partner's charms.

His cream cotton shirt half-undone in the heat, his eyes heavy from lack of sleep, Doyle gave him a puzzled scowl before the penny dropped. "Oh, _those_ things." Stubble rasped as he rubbed his chin. "It's not like you to be so subtle." He flexed fingers whose artistry Bodie had come to know and love. "In that case, bugger off so I can get on with this in peace."

"How long?" Bodie kneaded his partner's shoulders, his thumbs finding the knotted muscles and exerting just the right amount of pressure.

Rolling his neck, Doyle leant back against him for a moment. "Nine inches," he said, lying extravagantly.

"You wish," scoffed Bodie. "Besides, you can have too much of anything. Want any help?"

Doyle gave the tangled typewriter keys a dark look. "Pass me the Tippex, would you?"

"I used the last doing my report."

"Terrific. Oh well, there's nothing else for it." Backspacing, Doyle typed a row of xs over the offending phrase. "There. Kisses for Cowley. Be a - "

"Be a what, 4.5?" inquired a dry voice.

Always one to back his partner to the hilt, Bodie slid out of the office and took refuge in the next room, wondering how Doyle would weasel out of it. Stretched along the sagging sofa, he munched his way through some soggy digestives while he contemplated their forthcoming leave.

In the two months since he and Doyle had become lovers their relationship had already changed for the better. The spiked moodiness where they had edged around each other's sexuality was gone, their lives slotting together with an ease which might have surprised Bodie, had he been prone to prolonged self-analysis. And now they had four days leave. The unstable sofa swayed when the arm on which his head was resting received a vicious kick.

"It's a sign of middle age when you need a kip in the middle of the day." Standing above Bodie with his back to the door, Doyle's expression said all his tone could not - or not in CI5 headquarters.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, Bodie found his nose on a level with Doyle's velvet-moulded groin. "Wonderful view, shame about our surroundings," he murmured, resisting the temptation to rub his cheek against the spot. "What did Cowley have to say?"

"You don't want to know," Doyle promised him wryly, hauling Bodie to his feet before heading for the door, dragging on his jacket to conceal his holster.

The soft, shabby leather clung lovingly to the straight set of his wide shoulders; only waist length, it led the eye to the small, firm velvet-hugged mounds of his buttocks and the long, clean line of thigh. Velvet and leather, mused Bodie. No one but Ray could get away with it.

"Oy, cloth-ears," murmured Doyle, his breath tickling Bodie's ear as they waited for the lift in the deserted corridor.

"Not here," hissed Bodie, darting into the lift the moment the doors opened. His collision with Cowley, who had been attempting to emerge, left Doyle purse-lipped and quivering with suppressed laughter.

"You wait till I get you home," threatened Bodie, when they were safely out of ear-shot.

"Promises, promises," jeered Doyle, nodding to Harry, who was on the security desk. Emerging in the car park, he raised his face to greet the heat of the sun, like a gun-dog scenting game. "Four days' leave," he sighed blissfully. "We'll be able to get out of town."

"Er, no."

"What d'you mean, no?"

"We're on standby," said Bodie, reluctantly bursting his partner's bubble of optimism.

"What! I should've known the miserly old bugger wouldn't let us off the leash for long." But Doyle's mood was far too mellow for his grousing to have much bite. "Never mind, things could be worse." One hand on top of the waist-high wall, he vaulted over it, waiting with exaggerated patience while Bodie sedately walked the few extra yards through the gap.

"It would have been good to get out of town. I could do with some exercise," Doyle mused, slipping on his sunglasses.

"You'll be getting that all right," Bodie promised him in a velvety undertone.

Doyle's stride faltered before he made a typically quick recovery. "I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble," he said in a tone of spurious earnestness.

"The price of bacon must be going up," said Bodie with admiration. "Just get in the car, will you. I refuse to get a hard-on in the CI5 car park. Knowing my luck Cowley'll turn up again."

"No sense of adventure, that's your trouble," mourned Doyle.

"You worry about yours," Bodie advised him, fishing for his car keys.

"We'd best stop off for some shopping on our way home. You'll be needing to keep your strength up. I could take you right here," Doyle added.

Bodie blinked, wondering if he had mis-heard, until he saw Doyle's expression. "Ray!" he spluttered, when he felt a hand slide between his thighs.

Leaning into him, Doyle relieved him of the key, unlocking the door before returning them. Allowing himself to press back against the velvet-covered arousal prodding his buttocks, Bodie froze as he heard Lewis' cheerful tones as he and Susan parked close to where they stood.

"In!" he commanded.

That tone reminding him of his partner's army antecedents, Doyle had the sense to obey. As Bodie spun the Capri out of the car park with a squeal of burning rubber, there was a grim set to his mouth. Doyle was forced to grab the hand bar above his head rather than go through the windscreen. While the car slowed a little, the lines around Bodie's mouth had yet to relax.

"Of all the fucking irresponsible - "

"Yeah, I know. Sorry." All wide-eyed contrition, a small proportion of which was genuine, Doyle stared at his partner.

"Lying bugger," said Bodie, but without heat this time as he slowed the car's speed even further.

Doyle shrugged. "It's just that it's been a while."

Bodie tried to find a position of comfort on the seat. "Change the subject, mate. I'm as randy as a fifteen-year-old."

"Let's hope it lasts," murmured Doyle wickedly.

To ensure there were no other unseemly incidents, they spent the rest of the drive to the supermarket catching up on details of each other's activities during the last fortnight. Their conversation was even more innocuous while they shopped.

It was Doyle who remembered essentials like toilet paper and washing up liquid. With a mind which roamed above the mundane, Bodie was more concerned with maintaining his intake of cholesterol. Tingling with a pleasurable ache of anticipation, Doyle's mood was so sunny that he refrained from a single tart comment when he saw the size of the bill, and what Bodie had bought to account for it.

"You are in a good mood," noted Bodie, as they loaded the car boot with bulging carrier bags.

"I'm always in a good mood." Anticipation enabled Doyle to dodge the swat in his direction. "Whose flat shall we use?"

They had fallen into the habit of using whoever's was nearest, but Bodie had always preferred Doyle's home, long before they became lovers. Somehow, whatever type of accommodation Doyle was allocated, it became an instant home, over-run by the personality of the man occupying it.

"Yours," he said without hesitation, as he slammed the boot shut.

"They're both ours."

Doyle's tone was so casual that it was a moment before Bodie absorbed the implication behind that statement. Doyle wasn't given to making declarations of affection, rather the contrary, if anything.

"You mean that, don't you," Bodie said quietly.

"Oh quick, very quick," mocked Doyle. Only when his partner's face lost all trace of expression did he recognise his mistake, slipping his sunglasses down his nose to peer over them. "You silly sod," he chided gently. "Haven't you twigged yet? Anywhere you are would be home. And you can take that gob-smacked look off your face," he added with asperity, "you'll get us talked about."

"I'm not doing anything," protested Bodie indignantly.

"Maybe not, but keep looking that gorgeous and in another three seconds I'll be kissing you, and that'll get us talked about for sure. Let's get out of here. I've got plans for us."

"So have I," said Bodie, recovering. "But I'll let you kiss me first."

"Gosh, thanks. Let's get home," pleaded Doyle huskily.

Unlocking the car they hastily flung open the doors and stepped back, wincing at the oven-like intensity of heat. Standing on opposite sides of the car, their eyes met and slid away before they met and held again.

"I missed you something rotten," Doyle announced into the silence.

"No need to sound as if you're having teeth pulled. What's not to love? Innate perfection is hard to find."

The gagging noise Doyle made caused an approaching mother to look up, frown, and move her toddler in the opposite direction.

Wearing a broad grin, Bodie shook his head. "Can't take you anywhere."

"Oh, I dunno. You didn't seem to have much problem last time."

The lilting anticipation in Doyle's voice sent a ripple of pure lust through Bodie. "Or this," he promised. "I missed you, too."

Turning away, ostensibly to get into the car, Doyle fleetingly palmed one buttock, and gave his partner a frankly come-hither look.

"I'll get arrested if I enact what I'm thinking here," complained Bodie, slamming his door shut. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a tease?"

"No, you're the first." Slumped so that one bent knee was propped against the dashboard, the sun was on Doyle's smiling face. Reaching out, he gave Bodie a quick pat on the thigh. "Home, James, and don't spare the horses." He peered at Bodie's cords.

"Bastard," said Bodie, driving out of the car park. "You know you can turn me on faster than a tap. I'll get my revenge later," he added with silken menace.

"I'm relying on it," said Doyle serenely, turning in his seat so he could study Bodie inch by glorious inch. Taking his time, his eyes slid from the curl of dark hair behind a neat-set ear, via the jawline bearing a thirty-hour growth of stubble, down the powerful torso, to the parted thighs whose strength he couldn't wait to feel locked around him.

Alerted by a change in the quality of the silence, Bodie spared his partner a glance. "If your mouth's an indication of what you're feeling, the sooner I get you home the better."

"I won't argue with that. I could cope better if you'd stop stroking the knob of that gear stick every time you change up and down," complained Doyle. "Reminds me of our first time."

A slow, smug grin slid across Bodie's face. "Me, too," he admitted. "Thought it might get you going."

As the car drew to a halt at the lights, in the centre of three lanes of traffic, Doyle chastely set his loosely-linked hands in his lap to mask his arousal. Catching the direction of the gaze of a beautiful West Indian girl sitting in the Triumph next to him, he stared fixedly out of the windscreen. He made no attempt to speak until they had pulled clear of the traffic, the open window having reduced privacy to a minimum.

"Serves you right," said Bodie unsympathetically.

"D'you reckon she noticed?"

Bodie's snort of amusement was answer enough.

"Yeah. Still, a bird that gorgeous is probably used to taking the credit. Thank god we're almost home. I'm losing my mind. What little fantasy are we going to enact this time?"

"I've always fancied a love-slave myself."

"Sorry, you'll have to make do with me instead."

"Life's a bitch," sighed Bodie, scouring the road for a parking space within a hundred yards of Doyle's flat.

Trying to carry all the carrier bags at one time proved to be a mistake. A packet of frozen peas split when Bodie grabbed at it as the front door closed behind him. Slippery when wet, the plastic slithered through his fingers, spilling its half-thawed contents over the floor of the hall.

"Leave 'em," said Doyle, heading blindly for the kitchen, unable to see where he was going for the laden bag clutched to his chest. Shoving everything that would fit into the refrigerator until he was in the mood to think about unpacking properly, he turned to find Bodie watching him with an equal hunger.

"The other room'll be more comfortable," Doyle managed to say, peeling off his jacket and holster as he moved into the living-room, before unfastening his sweat-damp shirt and tugging it free of the waist band of his velvet jeans.

"For what?" asked Bodie, performing a slower strip, his eyes on the intriguing shadows and tantalising glimpses of brown skin.

"Anything you want," said Doyle simply.

Heeling off his shoes, Bodie gave an involuntary grin. "I'd settle for you saying please just the once," he announced, pulling off his socks.

"Reckon I should ask nicely for it, do you," mused Doyle, unfastening the button at the waist of his jeans. His fingers slipped inside to transcribe lazy circles on his belly. "How nice would you like me to be?"

"As much as you can manage - without being out of character," said Bodie huskily as he slumped onto the sofa.

Doyle didn't even hear the insult. "D'you have any idea how gorgeous you look, lounging there," he breathed.

Hoicking a cushion onto the floor, he knelt on it, his hands going to the silver buckle of the belt Bodie wore. Unfastening it with a slow deliberation, an endearing concentration on his face, he drew the leather free. "It's still warm from your body," he remarked, before he undid the catch at Bodie's waistband.

"Ray?"

"Ssh. I'm trying not to rush. Can't promise I'll make the grade though," said Doyle, easing black slacks down, Bodie co-operating as they were pushed past his hips and thighs.

Thin brown fingers lightly stroked the erection poking pleadingly within demure navy briefs. Bodie gave a sobbing gasp, his hands clenching as the sweet ache in him grew.

Banded by powerful, dark-downed thighs, Doyle's huge-pupilled eyes were luminous with lust. "Nothing heavy. I just want to suck you. Want to feel you pulsing across my tongue. Want to swallow you. Taste you. Want to own a part of you."

The intensity in the roughened voice stripped away Bodie's last remaining defences where the man kneeling at his feet was concerned. "You already do," he said shakily, brushing springy curls with an unsteady hand, love in his eyes.

Huge-eyed and unblinking, Doyle stared at him. "I know," he said at last, a pulse visibly beating in the great vein in his throat. "But it's OK because you're stuck with me, too."

The tweed fabric of the sofa prickling his nakedness, Bodie didn't move, his hands open and unmoving at his sides, leaving himself totally in his lover's charge. But his breathing was audibly disorganised, his freed cock arrogantly thrusting, moving with each quivering breath he took as Doyle finished stripping him.

"Oh, look at you," murmured Doyle, near reverence in his face for a moment. "Just look at you." His palms moved up Bodie's inner thighs, before sliding round to cup the junction of thigh and groin. Bending, he offered the blunt head of Bodie's cock a whisper of a kiss. Then came a wickedly arousing swirl of moisture before his tongue tip delved into the tiny slit weeping nascent tears.

His head going back, a strangled sound escaped Bodie.

"May I?" Devoid of mockery, longing, love and his own hunger were nakedly displayed on Doyle's unguarded face.

Giving a shuddering sigh, trying to calm himself, Bodie gently tugged a fat brown curl. "I may die if you don't."

"I should have been a lifeguard," said Doyle cryptically.

"You are, every day," Bodie reminded him.

"That works both ways. Never had everything with anyone before. Never will again. Love you, Bodie." Cradling his partner's swollen testicles, rubbing them with his thumb, Doyle's head bent once more.

It was unhurried and easy and sweet as honey, Bodie lightly caressing Doyle's hair and bowed neck as his mind blanked, thought swept aside by the physical sensations bombarding him. His eyes closing, soft sounds escaped him until his hands tightened over the shoulders bent to him at the point of climax.

Nuzzling Bodie's lower belly, testicles and inner thighs until he had calmed, Doyle slowly lifted his head, his mouth looking swollen and rosy as his tongue flicked out.

"I'm getting quite good at that," he said matter of factly.

Face still flushed with sexual heat, Bodie's eyes were soft and unguarded as he rubbed the marks he'd left on Doyle's shoulders. "Any better and I might not survive. Now it's your turn - unless you want me?"

"Oh, I want you. But later. Couldn't last long enough to do you justice," Doyle admitted, his teeth closing on his ripe lower lip.

"Then what'll it be?" Leaning forward, Bodie's hand skimmed down Doyle's back to rub the downy hollow of his spine.

"Everything. I want everything. But for now, your hands. It won't take much."

Helping Doyle out of his remaining clothing, Bodie drew him up to cover him, loving the solidity of his partner's weight, the sight of Doyle's jutting cock, and his face as his back arched when Bodie touched him for the first time.

Recognising that mute desperation, Bodie didn't make him wait. As Doyle had predicted, he didn't last long, his throaty cry echoing in the silence long after they were still.

Meticulous about licking first Doyle, then his own hands clean, Bodie refused to let him move. "No, don't go. Not yet. No matter how we do it, it's always over too soon," he mourned, tracing the bridge of Doyle's nose with his forefinger.

"I know. Suppose we'll just have to keep practising," said Doyle, his voice rich with repletion, before he sucked Bodie's finger into his mouth to nip at the pad.

Close entwined, they kissed for some time, their mouths gentle, tongues languid. Bodie's hands returned time and time again to his partner's beautiful backside.

"You couldn't," said Doyle, flexing his muscles against the hands cupping him.

Bodie opened heavy-lidded eyes. "Is that a challenge?" he inquired with sleepy interest.

Doyle thought about it for all of three seconds. "I suppose it is."

"I always," said Bodie, "rise to the occasion."

Five minutes later, his eyes bright with love and laughter, Doyle delicately asked which century Bodie had in mind. "Though the way you've been squirming, I thought the impossible was about to happen."

"It's this bloody material," complained Bodie. "It's putting me off. Unless your weight's cut off my circulation."

"No, I know what it is," said Doyle, kissing the side of Bodie's mouth before he got to his feet.

"What?" asked Bodie with suspicion, knowing his Doyle.

"Old age," said Doyle, yelping when a firm hand impacted with his presented backside as he tripped over their discarded clothing.

"I'll give you old age," threatened Bodie, but he was laughing too much for his menacing stalk to be very convincing.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Completed 29th November 1992
> 
>  
> 
> Published in the circuit zine _Slippery When Wet_
> 
> Republished in _HG Collected 1_


End file.
